


Kiss The Pain Away

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, One Night Stands, Psychic Abilities, Science Fiction, Tentacles, a fair cultural exchange, kind of like drugs, post-singing towers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hurts like hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss The Pain Away

A month after Darillium he was still seeing River in places she shouldn't be. The visions disturbed and depressed him, and he fled to the docks of Alpha Centauri, where anything could be bought and anyone could disappear.

He found Old Bob's pub and loitered outside for a few minutes before convincing himself to go in. He'd brought River here a few times, and he half-hoped that he'd got the date wrong and might run into her alive and well. Unlikely, though. He'd used up all her days. 

It wasn't a _nice_ place, but the proprietor was discreet and the clientèle mostly tried to keep out of trouble.

Old Bob looked up from cleaning the bar as he entered the establishment. “Ah, Doctor! Two banana daiquiris?” He set two glasses on the bar in preparation.

“Just the one. Professor Song won't be joining me this evening,” he said, trying to make it seem like an unimportant detail.

Bob knew better than to enquire further, which suited the Doctor just fine. He took the lonely drink to a table in the corner, and pretended an interest in the water-rugby match on the large screen above the jukebox.

He was almost engaged by the match when River appeared. She stood by the jukebox, swaying as though there were music playing. She was wearing white, her hair hung loose around her shoulders. The Doctor recognised the dress, he'd bought it for her on a planet on the other side of the galaxy. She had been... _no_ , he wasn't going to think about it.

He stared down at the table so he wouldn't have to see her. He examined the grain of the wood, stared at the back of his own hand, studied the glass that contained his drink.

Someone sat down at his table. “I don't have any money,” he said, without looking up.

“I'm not a prostitute.”

He looked up. “Sorry,” he said, to a blue-skinned woman with a couple of tentacles growing from her torso below her arms. “Did Bob send you over?”

She shook her head. “No.”

The Doctor looked around the bar, noting plenty of extra tables. “Why didn't you sit somewhere else?”

“Because you look sad,” she said.

The Doctor sat back in his chair. He looked at her carefully, weighing up the possibilities. “I'm not looking for company,” he said after some time.

“Why not?”

He met her gaze easily. “I'm just not.”

“Misery _loves_ company,” she said, leaning towards him. “That's an Earth saying. Have you ever been there?”

The Doctor felt his mouth twitch into a half-smile. “Once or twice.”

“I don't like it,” said the woman. “Too happy-clappy.”

He tried to place her anatomy. “Where are you from?”

“I'm an Arcadian,” she told him. 

Ah. That made sense. “You feed off the pain of others,” he said. “I suppose you're hungry, fancied a little snack?”

She touched the back of his hand. “You look more like a three-course meal.”

He watched her stroke his skin, not moving away. “Why do you say that?”

She shrugged her tentacles. “You're practically screaming.” She ran her fingers across his knuckles. “What are you, anyway?”

“Time Lord,” he said simply.

“Oh,” she said, eyes widening hungrily, “lots of pain there.” She licked her lips thoughtfully. “But this is recent, a bit more... intimate.”

The Doctor found that he was willing to share. “I had a friend. Well, no, she was...”

“A lover.”

“Yes. A very beautiful, intelligent woman.” He glanced up at the jukebox, but River had vanished to whatever corner of his mind she inhabited now.

“She died.”

“Are you telling the story or am I?” he asked mildly.

“Nakassia,” she said. 

He blinked at her. “Pardon?”

“That's my name.” She drew her hand away. “What's yours?”

“It's a secret,” he said. “But you can call me Doctor.”

“Doctor of what?”

“Nothing. Everything. Does it really matter?” He shrugged. “Does any of this really matter?”

“And here I thought you were enjoying my company.”

“It's not company,” he said, “it's just you playing with your food and me letting you do it. Terrible manners, really. You, not me. Pretending to care about your dinner's feelings.”

Nakassia sat back. “Most of my meals are grateful.” 

The Doctor finished his drink quickly and then stood up. 

She didn't hide her disappointment. “Going so soon?”

“They have rooms here,” said the Doctor. “I assume you'll want some privacy while you eat.”

Nakassia got to her feet. “It must hurt a lot,” she said.

“Like Hell.”

 

“How does this work?” he asked, following her into the room. 

“Physical contact helps, but it isn't necessary,” she said matter-of-factly. “What does your species usually do for fun?”

“Play chess. Wear funny hats. Sit about pretending not to interfere with other people's lives.”

She stared at him, probably questioning his sanity. “I meant sexually.”

He touched her cheek. “I don't think even an Arcadian has the psychic control you'd need for that.”

She looked intrigued. “Really?”

The Doctor shrugged off his jacket. “Usual humanoid method okay for you?” he asked. 

“Whatever you like,” she said. “I'm going to be busy feeding.”

“Still, it'd be nice if you enjoyed it.” He paused. “Am I really doing this? Is this actually happening?”

Nakassia sat down on the bed and opened her handbag. “Seems to be. Can you get pregnant?” she asked.

“In my species that's the female,” he told her, bending down to untie his shoelaces. “The male makes a genetic contribution, but he doesn't play a role in gestation. Which is a bit unfair, really, don't you think?”

Nakassia handed him a prophylactic in a shiny wrapper. “Can you unzip me?” she asked, standing and turning her back to him. 

“Okay.” He helped her out of her dress and then took off his bow-tie. “You're very pretty,” he said, politely. He pulled his braces off his shoulders and started to unbutton his shirt.

“Thanks.” She sat back down on the edge of the bed. “You're not bad yourself.”

The Doctor sat down next to her. “I'm not usually into casual sex,” he told her, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder. “You caught me at a bad time. Or I suppose it's a good time, from your perspective.”

Nakassia pushed him backwards onto the bed and settled over him. “I'm hungry,” she said. 

The Doctor touched her skin and thought of River. Nakassia let out a contented sigh. She snaked a tentacle down the front of his trousers and he let her take the pain away.

 

“Was it good for you?” he asked as they lay together afterwards.

“A feast,” she said. “I won't have to feed for a month after this.” She turned onto her side to look at him. “And you?”

He smiled. “Not bad.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “When does it come back? The pain, I mean?”

Her tentacles twitched. “I'm not sure, it varies from species to species. Could be hours, could be days.”

“Hmm. I think I'll just enjoy it while it lasts.” 

“If you ever need-” she began.

“No,” he said, silencing her with a finger on her lips. “It feels too much like cheating.”

“It can be addictive,” she warned. “You'll want to see me again.”

“I know.”

She looked surprised. “Are you really going to wallow in your own suffering?”

“It's all I've got,” he said, but he didn't feel too sad about it. That would come later, and he hoped he'd be ready for it. 

She rose from the bed and started to dress. The Doctor watched her contentedly. “You're beautiful,” he said, quite happily.

“I thought I was only pretty.”

“You were pretty earlier, now you're beautiful.”

Nakassia shook her head and slipped her shoes back on. “You're weird.”

“And you're a psychic leech, but let's not dwell on each other's flaws.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you going?”

“I don't see any reason to stay,” she said, confused.

“Fair enough,” he said. He didn't mind at all, he really didn't. He might might _later_ , but that was later and he'd have other things to worry about then. He watched her leave and then closed his eyes. Sleep was tempting. He might not even have a nightmare this time. 

He yawned, stretched, settled back against the mattress. Life was good.


End file.
